


family business

by killerqueenwrites



Series: family business – supernatural au [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Protective Tony Stark, Teen for language, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Urban Fantasy, what about it?, yes this is a supernatural au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-11-02 04:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: “Listen, I, uh…” Rhodey turns away, shoves a few things in the cupboard. “I think I found us a case.”“No.”“Tony–““I said no.”Saving people, hunting things: it's been in the family as long as Tony can remember. Just because this case is his first one in a while, it doesn't mean anything unusual is going to happen.Peter Parker clearly didn't get that memo.





	family business

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i’m really really excited and nervous about this au (even though I should have rage quit this show a long time ago, but here we are lol.) 
> 
> this HAD to be uploaded today, okay? 1) it’s my birthday rip me 2) it’s friday the 13th and a full moon. perfect day for a scary-ish story 3) the first ever supernatural episode aired on september 13 2005. this was meant to be.
> 
> some things:  
1\. it’s supernatural, so there’s going to be death, blood, guns and lots of swears. be careful if you think you’ll be sensitive to any of that.
> 
> 2\. i think i said this on tumblr, but thank you for 100 user subscriptions! your blind faith in me might change after this lmao.
> 
> 3\. as you can see, this is a series, so subscribe for updates. each part will hopefully be like a self-contained episode, but there is an overarching plot.
> 
> 4\. this kind of begins in media res, but anything that seems confusing now will be cleared up eventually.

Peter ducks inside his apartment building, shaking out rain from his hair, and heads for the stairs. The elevator’s been broken for as long as he can remember; he doesn’t think he’d know what to do with a working one.

Seventh floor. God, at least this keeps him fit.

He gets to his floor only slightly out of breath, squinting at the flickering lights as he jogs down the hallway. It hums oddly when he reaches his door, almost buzzing.

“Hey, May?” He wrestles with his key before backing into their apartment. “They didn’t have the usual butter, but I think this one’s okay. Uhh, and I got orange juice, ‘cause I saw we were running low.” He pauses, sniffing.

There’s a strange smell in the air, heavy, sticky, cloying his nostrils, oddly sweet.

“May? Did you burn something again?”

No answer. She’s in, right? All the lights are on.

“Did you leave the gas on?” Peter checks the stove; everything’s off, so what is that smell? “May?”

He takes a step towards her bedroom, leaving the grocery bags on the counter, and knocks on the door. The smell is stronger over here.

Something moves inside.

“Oh, did I wake you up? Sorry, I…” Peter trails off.

He sees the black shape first, hunched over, moving oddly. Then he sees the blood.

Peter screams.

* * *

“Hey!” Rhodey sounds way too cheerful for this time of the morning, stepping inside their cabin and stomping to rid his feet of the mud on them.

“Hngh.”

“Well, good fucking morning to you, too.”

Tony lifts his head from the table in the middle of the sitting room. His hair feels like a mess and he probably has his laptop keyboard imprinted in his cheek, but he couldn’t give fewer shits. “Did you get my coffee?”

“You need to stop drinking that shit, Tony. Staying awake until you pass out – it’s not healthy.”

“I could be drinking myself into a coma every night, would you prefer that?”

“I’d prefer you slept, Tony. Healthy, proper sleep.” There’s real concern in Rhodey’s eyes and Tony shies away from it.

“To sleep, perchance to dream.” Tony scrubs at his dry eyes. “I _see_ her, Rhodey.”

“I know, man.” Rhodey puts the shopping on the countertop. “I’m so sorry.”

Silence. Tony’s not going to cry, he’s _not_.

“Listen, I, uh…” Rhodey turns away, shoves a few things in the cupboard. “I think I found us a case.”

“No.”

“Tony–“

“I said no.”

“I’m not letting you sit here and rot for the rest of your life.”

“Maybe that’s what I want!” Tony snaps.

“No, it’s not.” Rhodey sighs. “It’s been months, Tony. When was the last time you went outside?”

“Monday?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Well, it was a…Monday, when I did…”

“Oh my God,” Rhodey mumbles. “Okay, we’re taking this case. Non-negotiable.”

There’s no escaping this one. “Ughh, _fine_. What is it?”

“Forest Hills, Queens. Five violent deaths in the last two weeks. Media’s putting it down to animal attacks, except…”

“Middle of the city. Right.” Tony turns the tap on and shoves a glass under it, doing his best to ignore the way his hand shakes. “Remind me why we took New York again? Why couldn’t we stick our ass out in buttfuck nowhere and explain everything away as coyotes, or some shit?”

“‘Cause someone’s gotta do it.” Rhodey claps him on the shoulder. “C’mon, clean yourself up. I’m thinking Feds for this one.”

“I’m driving!”

Rhodey does a poor job of hiding his smile. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

Tony looks left, then right, then left again. Tower blocks, nothing but streets and tower blocks as far he can see: office blocks, apartment blocks, little bodegas tucked into street corners, all painted orange by the early evening light. They’re in New York, all right.

“Animal attacks,” he says incredulously. “Seriously? Animal–“ He breaks off. “Are people stupid on purpose?”

“They’re doing their best with the limited amount of information they have,” Rhodey says, as infuriatingly calm as ever.

“They haven’t even considered murder?”

“We don’t know all the facts yet, okay? Let’s get in there.” Rhodey fiddles around in their box of IDs before fishing out two FBI badges. “Couple of favourites? For old time’s sake.”

Tony takes his and digs out the wallet with the correct insignia. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Hm?”

“Trying to act like everything’s normal. I’m not gonna wig out, okay? It’s a case. We’re professionals.”

“Professionals.” Rhodey snorts. “I’m not trying to walk on eggshells. I just…want a nice easy case. For once. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

It’s Tony’s turn to snort. “I regret to inform you that you’re in the _wrong_ job, my friend.”

* * *

The police are about as thrilled to see them as Tony expected.

“I don’t understand.” The blonde woman, who’d introduced herself as DI Sharon Carter, shakes her head. “We haven’t heard anything about this.”

“Often there’s no time for that,” Tony says, in his best stern voice. Huh. Not as rusty as he’d feared. “Look, we need all the information you have on this case–“

“What’s going on here?” Even hearing that voice gets Tony’s back up; it’s commanding and self-righteous, with just the right amount of condescension to tip him over the edge into pissed off.

“Captain,” Carter says. “Um, Agents, this is Captain Rogers.”

Rogers scowls, all stern blue eyes and squared shoulders.

“Agent Francis Watson, FBI,” Rhodey says amiably and offers his hand. “This my partner, James Crick.”

“Hi,” Tony says, flashing his badge.

A second cop walks over, hovering at Rogers’s shoulder and eyeing Tony with deep distrust. “The fuck are the Feds doing here?”

“Wilson–“

“Our job,” Rhodey says coolly.

Tony snorts. “Or yours, I suppose. A fifth murder? And how many leads?”

Rogers flounders. It’s immensely satisfying to watch. “We don’t know they’re murders, and – look, do you even have clearance for this case?”

“Absolutely I do.” Tony pulls out his card. “That’s our supervisor’s number right there. Why don’t you give him a call?”

“James–“

“Don’t worry, Frankie,” Tony drawls. Pissing off Fury is one of the few perks of this job. He gave them his number to use as a cover, so they're going to use it as a cover.

“Hello?” Rogers says. “Hello, yes, this is Captain Steve Rogers – what do you mean, you don’t care?”

Tony bites his lip to keep himself from laughing.

“I just want to confirm – right. Yessir. No, I’m very sorry to bother you, sir. No, it’s just we hadn’t had any prior warning, so – yes, I did see their badges. No, no – of course. My apologies again, sir.” Rogers hangs up. “He’s, um…fun.”

Tony grins. “Oh, isn’t he?”

He missed this, he realises; Rhodey gives him a _told you so_ look. Tony’s back and his friend is probably a psychic. Just a normal day on the job.

* * *

“Pretty gross, as you can see.” DI Wilson has at least recovered enough of his professionalism to work with Tony. “The latest victim was May Parker, aged forty-nine. There was only one witness: her nephew, Peter.”

“Right.” Tony scans the fifth autopsy report; exactly as gruesome as he’d expected, given the others. Definitely claw marks; definitely not murder. “I need to talk to the nephew.”

Wilson shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“What?”

“He’s not, uh, a reliable witness, I guess you could say. Kid’s probably traumatised, or something – keeps going on about a monster killing her. I think they’re actually looking into getting him moved somewhere. It’s a damn shame; he’s only fifteen.”

“_Moved_? To, what, a psych ward?” The question comes out sharper than Tony intended, but if he’s right, the kid is the furthest thing from crazy.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Tony nods and tucks the report under his arm. “I want to talk to the kid.”

* * *

Rogers isn’t happy about it, judging by his folded arms and irritated sighs, but he steps back and only shoots them glares from behind the safety of his desk.

“Just, um…” Wilson catches Rhodey’s elbow. “Be careful with the kid, all right? He lost his uncle not so long ago, and now his aunt is…well, Crick saw what happened.”

“Parents?” Rhodey asks.

Wilson shakes his head.

“Shit. Yeah. Poor kid.”

Tony clears his throat, tries to pretend he isn’t affected by this in the slightest. “He’s not a suspect, Detective, don’t worry. We’ll be nice.”

“Yeah, all right. And, uh, maybe he’ll talk to you. Give you a story that doesn’t involve a monster.”

“Maybe.” _Kinda hoping he doesn’t, though._

The kid is already in the office when Tony and Rhodey walk in, sitting on the chair with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looks pale and spooked.

“Peter?” Rhodey asks softly, and Tony lets him take the lead. “Peter, I’m Agent Watson and this is my partner, Agent Crick.”

A flicker of something, maybe amusement, crosses the kid’s face before his expression drops again. “You want to know about my aunt.”

“I’m afraid so, kid.”

“Look, I didn’t see anything, not really. Talk to the doctors – they’ll say my brain made it up to cope with the trauma.” Peter huffs and slumps even further in his chair.

“I don’t care what the doctors are saying,” Tony says. “I wanna hear what you have to say.”

Peter blinks, pauses, nods. “Okay. Okay, you asked for it. I, um, was out getting groceries. It was late, and…they didn’t have some of our usual stuff. God!” He pitches forward suddenly, smacking his head on his knees. “I spent so long looking at butter! I could’ve been home sooner, and maybe–“

“Maybe it would’ve killed you too,” Tony says gently.

Peter lifts his head, revealing red, tear-filled eyes that are just _pleading_ for help, and something in Tony’s chest, something buried and pushed down and forcibly forgotten, starts to stir.

“You can’t blame yourself for something like this, okay? You couldn’t have stopped it, not even if you’d been there. Nothing you could’ve done would’ve helped against that thing.” He reaches out on impulse, clasping the kid’s knee, and ignores Rhodey’s surprised look. “It’s not your fault.”

Peter doesn’t react to that, but his eyes grow wide. “…you believe me?”

Tony nods. The truth will come better if he coaxes it out. Maybe.

Surprise bleeds into Peter’s expression, closely followed by disbelief. “You read my statement, right? About the monster? Wait…” He frowns at them. “Are you guys, like, Men in Black? Are you gonna wipe my memory?”

Tony almost laughs. This kid. “If only we had that technology. Listen, just…your account of what happened. I understand it’s hard for you to talk about.”

The kid closes off again, his curiosity disappearing like shutters have slammed down. “I already told–“

“I know, and I’m sorry. But we’d really like to hear it from you.”

Peter stares at him for a long moment. Tony fears he’s misjudged it; he’s never been good with kids, so why did he think taking over this interview was a good idea?

“Fine.”

Then again, maybe it was. Rhodey reaches out under the desk and bumps the side of Tony’s fist with his own.

“I, um, walked home. It was raining.” Peter starts to fidget. “I remember I got back to the flat and it – it smelled weird. I d-didn’t know what it was, and I was calling for May, so I went into her room and…blood. Everywhere.” He swallows. “And the thing I saw in there – it wasn’t an animal, okay? Not one that should exist. It vanished when I screamed – I have no idea where. Maybe I am crazy.”

Tony squeezes his knee, lets him breathe. “You’re not crazy, kid.”

“Peter, this monster…” Rhodey leans forward. “Could you describe it to us?”

“Why?”

“Anything you can tell us will be helpful.”

“I – I don’t know–“ And now the kid’s looking at Tony, as if for reassurance.

“Could you draw it for us?”

Tony whips his head around. “Oh, for God’s sake, he’s fifteen, not nine!”

“N-no, drawing works,” the kid stammers. “I, um, don’t think I could describe it.”

Rhodey gives Tony a smug look and passes the kid his notepad and pen.

“It might not be accurate,” Peter says as he starts to draw. “It’s been – how long has it been?”

Tony quickly checks the file. “Five days.”

“Oh.” The pen stills. “I didn’t – I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Staying here?”

“Yeah, they have some rooms for officers on the night shift. They’re saying I’m a vulnerable witness or something.” Peter’s mouth twists, his words holding a cynicism that surprises even Tony. “They just don’t want me telling people about this.”

“Technically, it is an active investigation. You shouldn’t be talking about it anyway.”

“I know that,” Peter snaps, before he goes quiet. “I’ve been here before.”

Right. Dead uncle. Dead parents. Something softens in Tony, his instinctive walls crumbling under the sheer weight of his sympathy for this kid. Professional closet psychic James Rhodes is probably having a field day.

They sit in silence for a while; the only sound is the pen scratching against paper and Peter’s occasional shaky breaths. Eventually he puts the pen down on the desk.

“You done?”

“I – I think so.”

“Good stuff.” Tony accepts the notebook, scanning the sketch in front of him.

The thing seems to have six legs, each one ending in sharp claws. There are no eyes or ears visible, but its mouth is full of curved, pointed teeth that are bared as it roars. It would be easy to assume, just from this drawing, that it’s covered in fur, but Tony knows all too well that it isn’t. He shoves it towards Rhodey, breath catching in his throat.

“This is what you saw?” Rhodey asks. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Rhodey meets Tony’s gaze. They’re in _deep_ shit.

“We gotta go,” Tony says, standing abruptly. “That’s really helpful, kid, thank you.”

“Oh. Um, no problem–“

They’re already out of the door, heading for the exit with barely a glance at the detectives sitting at their desks.

“That’s impossible,” Rhodey hisses as he shoves the notebook in his pocket.

“I know.”

“We killed those things–“

“I know!” They’re at the car now, frantic, visibly shaken.

“It can’t be.”

“But the kid couldn’t just make this up. He _couldn’t_, Rhodey. It’s not like he’s pretending it’s a werewolf or something.” Tony rests his head on the steering wheel. “We have demon stuff in the trunk, right?”

“Always.”

“Okay. We’re gonna…go to one of the apartments my father always kept around the city. We’re gonna get a good night’s sleep. We’re gonna figure out how to find this thing. I’m gonna call Strange. And then we’re gonna kill it.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Rhodey blows out a long breath. “That was a bit hypocritical, what you told the kid.”

“Hm?”

“That he shouldn’t blame himself for something he couldn’t stop.”

Tony pretends to focus on backing out of the space.

“That it wasn’t his fault.”

“Well, it wasn’t, so…”

“Just saying. You seemed to – I don’t know, connect with him or something.”

“Just trying to be nice.”

“Uh-huh. So the fact he’s also just lost the woman who was practically his mom has nothing to do with it?”

Tony clenches his jaw. They can’t afford to care about people too much, not in this job. Whatever happened in there, it doesn’t matter. It _can’t_. “No.”

Rhodey doesn’t say anything else.

* * *

“Five crime scenes. Five!”

“I know, Tony.”

“Nothing. No traces, no smell of sulphur, nothing!”

“Yeah, I – I was there, too.”

“Nothing I can take away and show Strange and be like ‘we have a problem here’.”

“No.” Rhodey sighs. “Nothing except the kid’s word.”

Tony shakes his head as he slides into the car. “I believe him.”

“I do, too.”

“But…there’s nothing to point to where this thing might have gone or where it’s come from. Ugh.”

It’s been a long day. It’s nearly noon and he’s only had one coffee all day. Normally, adrenaline would be enough to get him through, but he’s out of practice, and his brain keeps getting stuck on Peter Parker, for some reason.

“I don’t know, man. We could use some lunch, though. Back to the apartment? I’ll look at some of the demon lore again, see if there’s anything about these things.”

“Yeah. Yeah, just…” Tony stares up at the apartment block, his gaze lingering on the seventh floor. Peter wasn’t kidding about the blood.

“Yeah, that one was pretty gruesome,” Rhodey says, like he’s read Tony’s mind. “Poor kid.”

“Mm.” _Poor kid_. The kid who likes Star Wars and plays with Lego and goes out to fetch groceries for his aunt and whose entire life was in that tiny apartment, in the nerdy bedroom with his textbooks scattered over his desk like he was coming back at any moment. The kid who has no one left, nothing to come back to.

“Tony? Tony!”

“Huh?”

“You gonna pull out or are you just gonna flash your blinker forever?”

“Oh.”

He pretends not to see Rhodey’s knowing smirk.

* * *

“Strange–“

_“I’m telling you, Stark, it’s impossible.”_

“And I’m telling _you_ the kid drew it almost exactly, which you’d know if you’d bothered to check your messages.” Tony runs a hand through his hair. “He couldn’t have made it up.”

Strange sighs, a hiss of static through the speaker. _“Tony. It must be something else: a werewolf, a wendigo, something.”_

“Why? Because then it’s not your problem, right? What if he’s back–?”

_“He’s _dead_,”_ Strange snaps. _“Besides, you know as well as I do that Loki was just a puppet. Those creatures didn’t answer to him.”_

“To who, then?”

_“Something far older and far, far worse than anything you’ve ever faced before, an evil locked away since the beginning of time. It cannot be an Outrider, Stark. I’m not sure how much simpler I can say it.”_

“But–“

_“Goodbye.”_

“Strange!” Tony glares at his cell as it beeps. “Well, fuck you, too.”

* * *

“What’d he say?” Rhodey asks, not looking up from what he’s reading as Tony storms back in.

“He was as delightful as ever, obviously.” Tony scoffs. “He was adamant it’s not an Outrider.”

“Did he see–?”

“I sent him the damn picture. Still no. The kid knows what he saw, and I believe him.”

“Speaking of the kid…” This time, Rhodey does put down his book, and Tony tries to ignore the way his stomach drops sickeningly. “I know we’ve seen these in action before, but that was in battle. I’m just assuming here, but if they’re anything like hellhounds, they’ll have a really good nose.”

“Right…”

“May Parker was killed in her apartment, right? Where Peter lived, too. He got there in time to see it.”

“Oh, shit.” Tony leaps to his feet, hands already going for his car keys. “Oh, _shit_! It’s got the kid’s scent – we need to get him out of here, right now.”

Rhodey nods, moving much too slowly for Tony’s liking. “Of course, we need to take the fight away from civilians, but…maybe we could use this.”

Tony freezes. “Use what?”

Silence.

“Oh, come on!”

“This might be our best chance!”

“I’m not using him as bait, Rhodey! He’s a _child_.”

“All we’re doing is drawing this thing away from where it can hurt other people. We’re not putting Peter in any danger that he’s not already in.” Rhodey sighs. “Come on, man. Unless you have another idea?”

Everything in Tony is screaming _no! _but...he's also coming up short on a different plan.

“I don’t like it either, Tones.” He’s been convinced for years that Rhodey’s psychic, but this is the final straw. “At least if he’s with us, we can protect him.”

_And breathe._ “Okay. Okay, fine. But I’m still not happy about this.”

“Clearly.” Rhodey shakes his head in amusement as he locks the door behind them. “Didn’t know you cared.”

Tony shrugs, throwing open the driver door with more force than necessary.

“You can’t do this, man. You need to keep it cool. Peter needs you to, okay?” Well, isn’t that the most terrifying thing anyone has ever said to him?

People can’t need Tony, can't rely on him; he’ll only let them down. The people that need Tony die.

* * *

“Agent Watson, Agent Crick.” Carter looks confused to see them at eleven at night, but she nods politely. “How can I help?”

Tony smiles, or tries to. “We’d like to talk to Mr Parker again, please. It’s…rather urgent.”

“It’s quite late,” she says, “but I’ll see if he’s still awake.”

“Thank you.”

Tony bounces on his heels as she disappears, glancing around the empty office. Most of the lights are off, throwing strange shadows up the walls and over the desks.

“Hey, chill out, man,” Rhodey hisses. “Get it together.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.”

“You’re in luck, agents.” Carter reappears, Peter by her side. The kid is fiddling with his sleeves and shooting Tony nervous glances.

“Thank you, Detective.” Rhodey smiles. “Mr Parker, can we go somewhere private?”

“There’s no one in the break room,” Carter offers, “and it’s not as if there’s anyone around to interrupt you.”

Tony manages a smile that probably looks like a grimace and starts to steer Peter in the direction she’s pointing. “Great. Thanks.”

“Is this about my aunt?” Peter says as soon as the door closes. “Have you found something else?”

“Kind of, kid.” _Oh God, how do we tell a teenager his life is in danger?_ “You remember the, uh, the monster you told us about, right? The one you thought you saw?”

Peter deflates a little. “I thought you believed me.”

“No, we do, we definitely do.” This is going about as well Tony imagined it would.

“So…” Peter tilts his head, his eyes narrowed. “You’re not really FBI, right?”

“…no.” Rhodey punches him in the shoulder. “Ow! What? We were gonna tell him anyway!”

“I thought so. Watson and Crick – they discovered the structure of DNA, right?”

“If you listen to history according to men, sure. Listen, kid–“

“So what are your real names?”

“Peter,” Tony groans. They don’t have time for this.

“I’m James Rhodes,” Rhodey says, “and he’s Tony Stark.”

“Stark? As in–?”

“Not important, kid. Point is: we know what you saw. We’ve seen creatures like it before.”

Peter’s mouth falls open. “You–?”

“We think it’s coming after you next, Peter,” Rhodey says. How the hell is he so calm? “We’d like to get you away from here.”

“That – that thing–?”

“This way, no one gets in the way, so they don’t get hurt.”

“And what about me?” Peter whispers. He’s pale in the dim light and trembling all over. “Is it going to kill me?”

“Hey, hey, no.” Tony has no idea how his voice comes out so steady, so gentle. “Look at me.” Peter does. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, okay? I won’t let it touch you, I promise.”

“But…”

“Peter? You gotta trust me.”

“It’s so big – and its claws – oh, _God.”_

“I swear I’m going to keep you safe,” Tony says firmly. “We kinda do this a lot.”

“You do? I guess it kinda makes sense, now I think about it. Wait – so is, like, everything real? All the scary stories? Ohmygod, is there really a Slenderman?”

Rhodey meets Tony’s eyes, his mouth quirking with amusement. ‘Does he ever stop talking?’ his expression says.

“–and witches and wizards – holy _shit,_ does Harry Potter exist?”

“Okay, questions in the car,” Tony says. “Out the window. Now.”

Peter does as he’s told, but doesn’t stop babbling about elves and dwarves and fuck knows what else.

Tony closes the window behind them and snaps his fingers. “Hey, listen. Eyes on me. This isn’t Lord of the fucking Rings, okay? This shit’s serious. Life-or-death serious. It’s not fun or cool or whatever your little Generation Z brain is screaming about.”

He feels kind of bad when Peter’s face falls. “I know that.” Of course he does; he watched his last family member die.

“Then stop yammering about it.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Mr Stark.”

Okay, well now Tony just feels like a terrible person. “No, kid – I’m not mad, just–“ He was really about to say worried, like some kind of parent.

“No, I – I understand, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me sir. I’m not my father.” He ignores Rhodey’s half-concerned, half-amused glance. “Let’s just…get out of here, okay?”

They start across the parking lot. Peter hovers right by Tony’s elbow, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell the kid off about it. He’s scared; of course he’s going to cling to someone. It just shouldn’t be Tony. It wouldn’t be, if Peter had any sense.

“Hey!”

Peter jumps, his fingers clamping around Tony’s arm.

“Dammit,” Rhodey mutters.

“Peter, where are these men taking you?” It’s Rogers, striding across the parking lot with intent. He’s actually quite intimidating when he wants to be.

“I…” Peter glances up at Tony, eyes wide.

“Are you seriously kidnapping a vulnerable kid? What the _hell_ is wrong with you?”

“Rogers–“

“I know for a fact you didn’t get permission, because it would have gone through me, and I would have said no. He’s being held here for his own safety.” Rogers reaches out and grasps the top of Peter’s arm. “Come on, kid.”

“What–? No! Mr Stark–“

“Hey, get your hands off him!”

“You’re overstepping a line, agents.”

“He’s in danger!” Tony snarls, and that startles Rogers enough that he releases Peter.

“What?”

Tony yanks the kid behind him. “We don’t have time to explain, and you won’t believe us if we do. I just need to get him the hell away from here.”

A cold wind whips between them, ruffling Tony’s hair and whistling through the trees behind them.

“In danger,” Rogers repeats. “From the…monster?” He’s not accusing or patronising, more curious, and that’s enough to make Tony pause.

“You believe him,” Rhodey says.

“I…think so. I mean, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing that’s happened to me.”

Tony bounces on the balls of his feet. Peter is quivering behind him, and it’s a constant reminder that they need to leave _right the fuck now_.

“I had a friend, when I was just a cadet,” Rogers starts, and Tony groans out loud, because he may as well have said _once upon a time_. “We were inseparable, we became detectives together. I knew Bucky, and I know – I _know_ – he wouldn’t have done what he did if he’d been himself, but…they say he went mad. That’s why they had to…they had to take him out.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhodey says sincerely. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Tony.”

“Who’s Tony?”

“Oh, sorry. Tony’s that idiot there. I’m Rhodey. We’re not actually Feds.”

“Rhodes!”

“What? Keep talking, Rogers.”

Rogers take a moment to collect himself – precious precious seconds – and continues. “He – I came face-to-face with him that day. His eyes were black.”

Tony waits for a moment, waiting for whatever’s coming next. “Oh! That’s it?”

“That’s it? What do you mean, that’s it?”

“Pretty standard demonic possession case,” Rhodey agrees.

“Pretty standard–? I lost my best friend!”

Tony nods. “And I’m sorry, but that’s a normal day for us, and this kid is gonna die if we don’t split, like, now–“

“What do you mean, normal?” Rogers gapes at him. “Wait – you really aren’t Feds? You came here looking for this monster!”

“Wow, your brain’s really firing on all cylinders, huh?” Tony swings around and pushes Peter towards the car. “Kid, in. Now.”

“Do you – do this? For a job?”

“‘Job’ implies we get paid. Or credit. Or anything out of it at all.”

“So you do?”

“Rogers, will you–?”

A low growl echoes around the dark parking lot.

Tony slaps his hand across Peter’s mouth, muffling the frightened squeak before it can escape. Rhodey pulls his knife and rolls it between his fingers and his palm.

They can’t get in the car quick enough. They’re going to have to run.

One glance at Rhodey confirms he knows it, too. One head tilt and a couple of nods later, and they have a plan.

Tony slowly takes his hand off Peter’s mouth and wraps his fingers around the kid’s wrist, motioning for him to keep quiet. Rhodey lays a hand on Rogers’s shoulder, presses a gun into his hand.

They run.

* * *

Rhodey is yelling and screaming, drawing the Outrider towards him and Steve, who’s shakily wielding his borrowed gun. Tony ignores them, yanking Peter along as he sprints for the patch of trees at the edge of the parking lot.

“Where are we–?”

“Shh!”

“But Mr Stark–“

With another sharp hushing noise, Tony pulls him behind a tree. Gunshots crack across the lot and Peter cringes against Tony’s arm.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony breathes, hoping against hope that he’s not about to become the biggest liar in the world.

Rhodey screams.

Shit. Shit shit shit. He did _not_ just choose a kid he’s known two days over his best friend. And Rogers might be a good cop, but there’s no way he’s faced anything like this in his life.

“Kid, I need you to stay here.”

“What? No–“

“Stay here, stay hidden. I’ll be right back.”

“That thing killed my aunt,” Peter says.

Uh-oh.

“I wanna kill it.”

“And _it_ wants to kill _you_, idiot,” Tony snaps. “You’re not trained – have you ever even held a gun?”

“…no.”

Tony rolls his eyes and pulls his gun, loaded with pentagram-marked salt bullets, demon-killing bullets. Peter stares at it with wide, frightened eyes. “I said I was going to protect you, and that’s exactly what I plan on–“

“Mr Stark!”

With a ferocious roar, a black leg swipes at Tony and catches him in the chest, throwing him through the air until he crashes against a tree trunk.

_Ow._

Peter’s hyperventilating somewhere out of sight. Tony has to get to him, has to protect him. His gun – where’s his gun?

Tony raises his throbbing head off the ground, squinting as blood drips into his eyes, and watches as Peter scrambles backwards, away from the huge demon looming over him.

He’s seen them before, of course he has, but never so motionless, never so close when they’re not trying to kill him. It’s huge, easily horse-sized, with raw markings all over its mottled, black skin. Two of its legs pin Peter to the ground as he tries frantically to shuffle away, the other four positioned in just the right way for Tony to see long, curved claws. It leans forward, mouth open in a ferocious snarl.

For a heart-stopping second, he’s certain he’s about to watch the kid die.

And then the Outrider stops, sniffs him, and fastens its teeth around Peter’s ankle, gently, gingerly. The kid freezes, the only sound his stuttering breaths.

The demon runs, dragging Peter with it.

“Mr Stark!”

“No!” Tony yells. He wishes he could explain why Peter’s terrified scream slices right into his chest._ I was supposed to protect him, I should have–_

His gun is suddenly right by his fumbling hand, but he can’t fire, not without risking Peter. He's useless, struggling to even stand, and the kid's being dragged further and further away while all he can do is _stare._

Shots ring out. The Outrider whimpers, staggers and falls.

Tony twists to see Steve holding Rhodey’s gun. He’s ashen-faced and bleeding, but aiming steadily.

“Peter,” Tony mumbles. His stomach is churning as he scrambles to his feet and stumbles towards the dead demon. “Peter?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. He’d promised the kid. He’d promised, and Peter had trusted him, and–

“Mr Stark?”

“Holy _shit_.” Tony grabs Peter under his arms and drags him out from beneath the Outrider, finding himself with an armful of trembling kid. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s dead, kid.”

“I thought…”

“I know, I know.”

“Why didn’t it kill me?” Peter’s talking into Tony’s chest, but the question is still audible. It’s a good question, too.

Peter should be mincemeat right now. They all should, except this Outrider hadn’t been on a bloodthirsty rampage. This Outrider had been on a mission, sent by someone. But why would Peter be their target?

“I don’t know, kid,” Tony says eventually, “I don’t know.”

“Tony? Tony!”

“Rhodey!”

Rhodey charges through the trees, limping and covered in blood but wonderfully alive, and gathers both Tony and Peter into a tight hug.

“This is nice,” Peter mumbles into Tony’s shirt, and Tony can’t help but agree.

* * *

“I’m gonna kick Strange’s magical ass,” Tony mutters as they hobble away from the ambulance. “‘It can’t be an Outrider, Stark.’ That’s some bullshit.”

Rhodey probes his bruised cheek and winces. “I wanna be there when you do.”

With a snort, Tony leans against the car and watches the crowd of people scurry around.

Sharon Carter had called for backup and an emergency response when she’d heard the shots, only to find her Captain, her witness and two ‘agents’ bleeding all over the parking lot. In all fairness, she’d composed herself pretty quickly, even making a start on checking Peter’s injured ankle before the first ambulance arrived. There had been no questions about the still-smouldering remains of a fire a few hundred yards away.

Rogers appears, a cut over his eyebrow taped shut. “So. That happened.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Guess it really was an animal attack. Gonna be interesting explaining how it got into a seventh-floor apartment, but at least it’s probably dead. Limped off into the streets to die, I guess.”

“Well, lucky someone here’s a good shot,” Rhodey says. “Seriously, thanks, man. You saved that kid’s life.”

_Speaking of the kid…_

“What’s going to happen to him now?” Rhodey asks, clearly sensing why Tony’s on edge. See? Psychic.

Steve shrugs. “I can’t tell anyone what happened here, so…he’ll probably still have to undergo a psych eval.”

“And then?”

“Who knows? Proving it was a, you know, animal attack kind of corroborates his monster story a little, but he’s still an orphan. Most likely, he’ll go into the system.” Steve sighs, looking genuinely sorry. “I wish there was more I could do.”

Tony stares at Rhodey.

“What?”

“We could…”

“Just excuse us one minute, Captain.” Rhodey drags Tony away. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Duh!”

“Tony, no.”

“Tony, yes!”

“Look, man, you’re my brother. I love you, and I will stand by you for the rest of your reckless life, but I’m drawing the line at bringing a kid into this job.”

“You were the one who wanted to use him as bait.”

“That’s different, Tones. If we do this, kid’s growing up a soldier.”

“He’s here already, whether he likes it or not,” Tony argues. “You and I both know that demon wasn’t sent to kill him; it was here to collect him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Rhodey! But maybe, if he comes with us, we can figure out why and who. Maybe we can stop it. Maybe we can _save_ him.”

Rhodey considers it, but Tony can see he’s close to caving. “And what if we can’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“This life is dangerous, Tones. You lose people.”

His mother’s face flashes behind his eyes. “I know.”

“And I know you, man. Just…try not to get too close to him.”

Rogers is watching them with amusement; clearly, they hadn’t been talking as quietly as they should. “You want to take the kid.”

Rhodey nods. “We think it’s for the best. If something like this happens again, we’ll be the best equipped to handle it.”

“And I don’t doubt that, but how am I going to explain the disappearance of a vulnerable witness?”

“We have a friend,” Tony says. “He can get you any documents you need – transfer forms, guardianship papers, anything.”

“That sounds cool and illegal.” With a rueful grin, Rogers folds his arms. “Listen, it’s not me you have to convince here.”

“Who?”

“Have you asked the kid what he wants?”

Tony stops, blinks, nods. “Yeah, that…would have made much more sense.”

* * *

Peter is sitting in one of the ambulances, wrapped in a blanket and his ankle bandaged. He’s staring at nothing, pale and shaking. It could be the cold, could be something else.

Tony tosses the car keys towards Rhodey. “You drive.”

Rhodey catches them, staring at him. “…are you serious?”

Tony nods towards Peter; the kid looks shell-shocked at best, probably traumatised.

“Okay.” Rhodey shakes his head in amusement. Tony’s carefully constructed image is crumbling by the minute. “Thought we weren’t getting attached, here?”

Tony clenches his jaw. “I’m not.”

“Sure, man.”

“No, listen to me, Rhodey. I’m Tony fucking Stark, okay? I’m the best hunter in the tristate area. Monsters all over America know my name. I’m not about to melt because of a kid.”

Rhodey just nods like he’s humouring a toddler having a tantrum. “You’ve been sitting on your ass for four months, Mr Ferocious Hunter.”

There’s really no dignified response to that, so Tony huffs and turns on his heel, heading towards the kid.

Peter looks up as Tony approaches, something so terribly fragile dancing behind his eyes, some desperate need for Tony to make it better. He's caked in mud, leaves tangled in his hair, and his face is smudged with something black that Tony doesn't really want to think about.

“Hey, kid.”

“Mr Stark,” Peter whispers.

Tony sits beside him, fighting the urge to put an arm around his shoulders. They’re not there yet.

Peter has no such reservations. He all but collapses sideways, burying his face in Tony’s shoulder, and cries.

“Oh, kid…” _What do I do? What do I do? The kid’s crying. Rhodey, help!_ “I know, I know it’s a lot.”

“They’re gonna put me in the system.” This is said between gasping, gulping sobs that hurt Tony’s chest just listening.

“Well–“

“I’m gonna have to move away from here. Move schools and leave the apartment and…” Peter sits up, his face streaked with tears. “My aunt’s dead,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Tony says, because how the hell is he supposed to answer that?

“And all my friends are in Queens, but I can’t tell them what really happened or why I have to leave, not really…”

“No. I’m sorry, kid.” Tony ignores the voice in his head that wants him to reach over and wipe away Peter’s tears. He’s not the kid’s fucking father. “It’s for their safety. Once you know, you start looking, and then you start _seeing_, and maybe you pick a fight with an interdimensional hell beast that rips you to pieces.”

“But I know.”

“And I’m gonna keep you safe, if you want. We can teach you how to look after yourself.”

“What, like…go with you?”

“Only if you want,” Tony promises. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want to up sticks and take off with a couple of random dudes who met you less than two days ago and lied for most of that time.”

“And you’re gonna teach me? How to fight, about monsters? So I can help people, like you?”

“So you can defend yourself,” Tony corrects him. “I’m not recruiting you to be a child soldier here.” _Don’t ask why you need to defend yourself, please, I’m not ready for this conversation. Not yet._

“Are you sure?” Peter keeps looking at him like he’s expecting a punchline, like Tony’s about to laugh and snatch this whole thing away.

“Are you?”

Peter nods. No hesitation, no stopping to think: just nods eagerly.

Tony almost sags in relief. Almost; he has an image to maintain. “Good. Good, okay. It’s decided. Rhodey can get a contact of ours to forge some documents, or whatever. Sorted.”

He barely has time to blink before Peter throws his arms around Tony’s middle, the blanket falling from his shoulders. “Thank you, Mr Stark. Thank you thank you _thank you_–“

Tony briefly wonders if they’re going to make a habit of this, then decides he wouldn’t mind so much if they did. “It’s all right, kid. It’s gonna be fine.”

“I know, Mr Stark. I trust you.”

_Jesus, kid, why would you ever do that?_

**Author's Note:**

> some more things:  
1\. may dies, sorryyyy!! i love her, but this series is going to be something different to my usual stuff.
> 
> 2\. the outrider is based off those weird creatures that attack wakanda in infinity war.
> 
> 3\. pepper will be making an appearance soooon.
> 
> i'm on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites, or my main blog @akillerqueenyouare. come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. thank you for reading!


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